I once said I thought distance was best.
I needed to think, to plan, to test.
My mind changed in no time.
I asked you to be mine,
Now history has archived the rest.
Tag: distance
In the Cafe
Fingers trace
the crescent moon coffee stain
on the otherwise white napkin.
Nothing left
between us now
but donut crumbs.
– This poetry form is called a Cherita.
Leara writes and other creative things... 